


Mutt

by L_Nevada



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4382462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Nevada/pseuds/L_Nevada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl ventures into the woods one morning to get some time away from the group.  But his peacefully moment is soon interrupted when he realizes he is being watched through the underbrush.  Short one shot.  Enjoy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutt

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: I wrote this story directly following the end of season three. I remember having this idea a long time ago after reading an interview of Norman Reedus saying he wanted his character to have a dog on the show. Please leave a comment to let me know what you think. Enjoy… 

“Relax man, I’ll be back ‘fore dark,” Daryl stated as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and began moving towards the door leading out of the cell block.  
Rick stepped in front of Daryl, putting a hand up in front of his chest to stop him. “Fine, go ahead. I can’t stop you. But Daryl, be careful. We still don’t know where the Governor is and after everything that happened with him, after Merle…I don’t want you out there too long.”  
Daryl scoffed, “If you’re worryin’ about me taken off, don’t. Like I said, I’ll be back ‘fore dark.” Daryl pushed past Rick before he could say anything else and headed outside to his motorcycle.  
XXXX  
Daryl cut the motor and walked off into the woods. He didn’t come out here with the mind to hunt; he just needed some time alone to think. After everything that happened with the Governor and his disappearance and after just losing Merle, it would do the hunter good to get away from the group for a few hours. All he had was the wind and his thoughts to keep him company. Daryl walked for over an hour, stopping long enough to shoot a squirrel out of a tree and walk over to retrieve his prize, then continued his blind walk through the woods. After around two hours in total he finally decided to stop for a while and eat the squirrel. It was a nice quiet day and he sat down in the shade of a tree leaning against the rough brown bark. He loved being in the woods, it was always so quiet, peaceful, and it was the only place he could go to be alone and think.  
He started cutting into the squirrel, but his peaceful morning didn’t last. His head snapped up when he heard the crunch of leaves not thirty feet away. “Can I not have a few hours of peace?” Daryl quietly thought aloud as he got up to retrieve his crossbow that was leaning against a nearby tree. He brought his crossbow up to his face and began looking around himself and peering through the trees, waiting for a pale and bloody geek to come out from behind a tree to attack him. Daryl was listening for the moans of a walker, but could only hear the soft sound of leaves ruffling as something moved closer to his resting place.  
“Where are you,” Daryl asked himself as he turned again, confused when he thought he heard a pained whine. The sound of shifting leaves stopped maybe ten feet away from Daryl still hidden in the brush. The hunter turned to face the creature and was greeted by a low growl and a large dog stepping out into the open.  
Daryl sighed and lowered his crossbow. “Hey Mutt, you scared me.”  
The dog stopped growling and looked up into Daryl’s face (looking just below his eyes) when he heard Daryl speak to him, then quickly looked back down to his belt, and growled again. The dog is colored with splotches of black and brown and his chest is white except for an old scar that runs across it. He is obviously weak and thin from lack of food. He is hostel and scared, but he puts up a good act and can obviously handle his own. He has a torn ear, drastically bent tail, and dried blood that had run down his left front leg. The dog is also limping, Daryl figured he must have tripped or fallen and hurt his back leg.  
The dog never took his eyes off Daryl, but refused to look him in the eye. Daryl figured the dog probably wouldn’t attack him (probably too scared to get close enough). So Daryl sat back down and leaned against his tree, crossbow in easy reach back under the tree next to him, and he pulled the carcass back into his lap. Daryl started cutting open the squirrel again with the dog watching his every move. The dog, shocked that the man didn’t run nor attack him, opted to follow his lead and lied down only a couple feet away from Daryl to watch him. After sitting, the dog stopped growling and studied the hunter, trying to decide if the redneck was a threat or not.  
Daryl took the first bite of his capture and was interrupted mid chew by another whine. He looked up to see the dog with his head raised, staring down at the meat and whine again. Daryl thought for a moment and decided to take pity on the damn thing, because he just looked pathetic. “Hey if you want food you gotta come and ask for it Mutt.”  
The dog looked back up into Daryl’s face as the hunter spoke to him. He then started looking around the woods as if he was checking to see if anyone could see them. The dog looked at the meat, then back into Daryl’s face wondering if he could trust the man. The dog seemed to have thought better of it and looked back down at the ground. He then laid his head down with a huff as if to say ‘yeah right’, remembering he is supposed to act aggressive and hostel towards the hunter.  
“Fine, starve, that’ll show me. You can just lay down there and watch me eat this delicious little squirrel.” Daryl was actually trying to taunt the dog even though he knew the dog didn’t understand. “You know, squirrels don’ have a lot of meat on ‘em,” Daryl commented, “might have to shoot another one.” The dog looked up with his eyes, listening to ever word the hunter said. “Alrigh’ Mutt, come on, I know you’re hungry and I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I ain’t one of them.”  
The dog must have been hungry, because as much as he didn’t want to, he slowly gathered his feet under him. He started walking, moving hesitantly towards the man with food. Daryl cut a piece of meat and held it in his outstretched hand to his right side as an offering. The dog took a few small steps at a time, slowly closing the gap between him and the hunter. The dog wouldn’t look at Daryl as he walked over to him; he just kept looking around at the trees as if he was waiting to get caught.  
The dog stopped right next to the hunter, still staring at the ground, not sure if he should take the food. “Come on Mutt. You’re here, might as well take it.” The dog leaned in and tentatively took the meat, still not confident in himself. As the dog slowly ate the hunter studied him more closely. Daryl cut more meat for the patiently waiting dog as he did; the dog had obviously given up and simply wanted to eat, though he still wouldn’t meet the hunters gaze. Daryl noticed the dog has four long scars across his back, now partially consumed by his fur now that they have healed, that match the one on his chest. And as far as Daryl can tell, it looks like his back leg had recently been broken and was now at least partly healed.  
But the dog kept eating, thankful for the food, and slowly began to get use to Daryl. Daryl knew better than to say this dog had been attacked by walkers, obviously. This dog had been hurt badly before the world went to shit. Going by the old scars on his back and chest it looked like he had once, if not on regular occasion, been whipped, had once been… “Beaten,” Daryl said aloud. He felt the dog’s pain and immediately felt personal sympathy for the stray. The dog knew Daryl wasn’t one of the dead, but the mutt was probably equally afraid of people.  
Daryl slowly raised his hand to scratch behind the dog’s ear, as a gesture of comfort, but as soon as his hand made contact the dog let out a fierce snarl, turned, and sank his teeth into the hunter’s wrist. “Aw, damn it, let go,” Daryl snarled back just as fiercely, pulling his hand away, and for the first time since they encountered each other the dog looked Daryl in the eye. They just looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment and the dog looked like he immediately regretted biting the man. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya Mutt. Just let me look,” Daryl whispered softly and reached up to scratch the dog again. The dog was tense under Daryl’s touch, but let Daryl stroke him. Daryl fed the dog again, watching the dog’s muscles slowly relax under his hand.  
Once out of meat, the two sat under the shade of the tree, the canine lying two inches from the man’s form with his head lying next to his right hand on the dirt, and just enjoyed each other’s company. For the first time in a long time Daryl actually let his guard down and enjoyed sitting with the stray. “You ain’t so bad are ya Mutt?” Daryl asked with a soft smile and an affectionate pat to the side of the dog’s neck.  
Daryl looked up into the sky and saw the sun was now to the east. He had been out here for over three hours and since he wasn’t really planning on hunting or walking anymore, he decided to head back to the prison. Daryl got up and grabbed his crossbow from under the other tree, draping it across his back once more. He then started walking back to his bike only to look down and see the dog jump up and follow him. “What do ya think you’re doin’?” Daryl asked, only slightly annoyed. The dog looked up, but continued to walk keeping Daryl’s pace. Daryl stopped walking to glare at the stray. “If you think you’re comin’ back with me you can forget it.” The dog had stopped too and looked up to meet Daryl’s gaze with his tail wagging only slightly, waiting for the redneck to make a move.  
“Go on, get outta here,” Daryl said as he threw his hand out in front of him over the dog, raising his voice a fraction subconsciously. The dog flinched, crouched down, and growled out of instinct, expecting to get hit. Daryl saw this and knew he had made a mistake. “Sorry Mutt, I didn’t mean it like that. I jus’ don’t think ya need to come back with me,” and with that Daryl turned and started walking again. The dog recovered quickly and, after a beat where Daryl walked several feet, went back to his place beside the hunter. “Fine, but if you ain’t quick enough I’m shuttin’ the door on ya.”  
Daryl walked at a now slightly accelerated pace all the way back to his bike with the dog calmly trotting at his heels. He threw a leg over his bike and started the motor. “Try to keep up,” and with that Daryl speed off at only fifteen mph back to the prison with the dog running by his side. For a dog with a limp, he was surprisingly fast and never missed a beat. Daryl speed up, but the dog just continued to run alongside his bike, racing past the outer fence and up the road to the prison. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A month later and Daryl and the dog became inseparable. The dog’s leg eventually healed properly with help from Hershel and the two spent almost every day the group occupied the prison hunting or going out on runs, either by themselves or with other members of the group. They also took a shift every night on watch together in what became known as their personal tower (opposite from Glenn and Maggie’s). The dog slept in Daryl’s cell, the cell that they claimed for themselves after being kicked off of the catwalk, far away from other group members’ cells and followed the hunter everywhere he went. While most of the group didn’t really want the dog around, it being another mouth to feed and could cause problems with barking and drawing in even more walkers, the group let him stay deciding he would be the perfect companion for Daryl. Even though the dog wasn’t really comfortable around other people, especially in such a big group, with Daryl by him, he eventually learned to live amongst them and became a valuable and well-loved member of the group. And when the time came for the group to leave the prison, the sky filling with fire and smoke, the sound of falling bricks and gunfire able to be heard for miles around, though the group was divided, Mutt left the safety of what was once the group's home, running at Daryl's side. Exactly as he had entered. 

The End.


End file.
